


Res Ipsa Loquitur

by ShortSkirtLongJacket



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShortSkirtLongJacket/pseuds/ShortSkirtLongJacket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark, a journalism major and intern at the Landing Times, has such a bright future - until she crosses paths with the high-profile defense attorney Petyr Baelish. After uncovering his dark secrets, their mutual obsession grows, threatening to undo her entire world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Res Ipsa Loquitur

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by thefudge's awesome corporate AU gifset on Tumblr.

Aulaeum Tollitur - The curtain is raised.

* * *

  

Manicured hand raised, swearing to tell the whole truth. Every seat in the courtroom was filled, with more bodies threatening to spill into the aisles. Thankfully, the judge decreed no cameras were permitted - which left a dozen different men and women feverishly sketching the proceedings and countless others taking notes. Isn't it strange how the mind works sometimes, what you hear when the adrenaline is pumping? You'd think her ears would pick up on the snippets of too-loud conversations or the hum of the air conditioner. Instead, they pricked and focused on the graphite dragging along the thick white paper of sketchbooks, each individual stroke clashing together as waves on the shore. She wasn't nervous - oh, no. This was all part of the plan. _Her_ plan. _The_ plan. She had willed herself to be an instrument to justice of the most poetic kind. 

The rotund, bald man in the expensive dark suit drawled on in the background - there were no winners in this case, that she was an innocent victim of a scheming, lascivious older man and the evidence will clearly show this. She was adhering to her promise of anonymous sources and shouldn't be punished for morality in a society sorely lacking such things. Were the ladies and gentlemen of the jury  _really_ prepared to send the message that truth and justice be punished? 

Blue eyes focused intently as District Attorney Varys approached the witness stand, fingers buttoning suit coat. Everything seemed to be in high definition, each line delineated and distinct. "Will you please state your name and occupation for the record?" 

"Sansa Stark. I'm a journalism major and intern for the Landing Times," said an unglossed mouth. She'd been advised to appear modest - the picture of innocence. The look suited her, truth be told, with her hair pinned, simple make up, and high-necked navy dress. Demure. Unassuming. An ingenue clearly incapable of performing anything she was accused of. 

"Thank you. And, Miss Stark, prior to these incidents would it be correct to say that you had no knowledge of the inner workings of Baratheon and Company?" A strangled "yes" escaped lips as he continued. "Do you see the individual who embroiled you in these nefarious activities in the courtroom this morning?" 

Her face felt hot. This was it; the culmination of everything she'd worked for. "Yes, sir." 

"And will you state his name for the record?" 

Her gaze broke from him, dragging slowly over the teams of attorneys flanking the aisles. She came to rest on that man, dressed in a light gray suit and cream tie, hands neatly folded on the table with eyes trained on her in polite attention. Each detail, down to the color and style of tie pin carefully planned, and how innocent the slight man seemed - surely someone so dangerous is obligated to be swathed in menacing black. Something must give the indication that he be avoided at all costs; a modern-day Hades. He was a monster, after all - at least as far as the jury needed to be concerned. But the dress was a smart move: the devil doesn't wear creme ties and handsome gray suits. As she answered, he gave the slightest twitch of mouth, an almost imperceptible gesture. An unspoken signal just for her. 

"Petyr Baelish."


End file.
